


Hear Me?

by AvengersTime



Series: Deaf!Clint [1]
Category: Marvel (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Angst, Gen, deaf!Clint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-21
Updated: 2012-12-02
Packaged: 2017-11-19 05:02:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/569400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvengersTime/pseuds/AvengersTime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deaf!Clint: Clint may not be able to hear next to nothing, but he is not useless. But he doesn't tell his team anyway. A deaf fic written by a deaf author. Go figure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: So the odd thing about this silly thing is that it’s written by someone that actually is nearly deaf. I have really bad hearing loss (65% deaf in both ears) and according to the comics, Clint’s is about 10% worse than mine. I tried to place my experiences because we have to struggle with similar things. I’ve never written anything about my disability before. I hope I did okay at describing it.

If there is one thing that Clint Barton hates the most, its people looking down at him in pity like he was incapable of handling things like a normal human being. A liability. Weak. He was doing just fine working solo missions and the occasional one with Natasha Romanoff or another member of SHIELD that has the jurisdiction of working with Clint (he was never given rookies, and he was just fine with that). And only Natasha, and Director Fury, of course, knew about his hearing loss. He’s had it for a while now, but it feels like forever rather than just a few odd months short of 6 years. A mission gone awry, an explosion that had left him staring at the blue sky as everything erupted around him. Bombs had gone from trembling sounds to muffled thumps and voices became mumbles. His partner, Jacob, was yelling in his face and he had absolutely no idea what the hell the guy had been saying and he passed out seconds later. He woke up in a SHIELD infirmary and he was bombarded with tests, assurances, and doctors calmly telling him that it was most likely not coming back any time soon. He was disabled.

The incident had rendered him nearly deaf, and that hadn’t stopped him one bit in his work with SHIELD. Actually, it did him good. He had been great at his skill as a marksman, but his senses after the explosion? Just months after, he could notice a difference with his precision of what things come next and what each smell is and what something feels like. Every sense was heightened now, especially his eyesight, and that had been the only blessing he felt he had gotten from the curse. Sometimes, when targeting a shot and having a need for concentration, he turned off his hearing aids and was greeted with a familiar empty silence that surrounded his entire being and felt like it could swallow him up. It didn’t, and aimed and fired and always hits the shot. He wasn’t bragging. He was just that good.

He read lips like a pro now. He hardly even had to hear at all for him to understand people since he had unconsciously mastered this.

Natasha never mentioned anything. Fury hardly did. He liked it better that way.

And then the Avengers happened. Don’t get him wrong, he wasn’t angry that he was a superhero now. He just maybe should have realized he was signing off his personal information as well as his skillset in the paperwork. When the disaster with the Chitauri subsided, and he got the chance to meet the team officially, it had been a crushing blow.

They all seemed so _powerful._

Thor was a god, for Christ’s sakes, and Steve was a super solider. Tony was a genius and billionaire with an attitude, Natasha was…Natasha. And Bruce Banner aka the Hulk? He didn’t even have to explain that one. None of them had a petty disability holding them down. He knew that wasn’t fair. After all, they all had their own shitty things to deal with. It didn’t change the fact that Clint felt a little inferior to them. It was bad enough that he’d been mind controlled by Loki and had committed things he never wanted to ever speak of again. He didn’t tell his team about his hearing loss. He had hacked into SHIELD’s databases long ago and erased all information about his disability, so they’d have to get it from the source. Or Natasha. But she wouldn’t ever betray Clint’s trust like that.

“You’re going to have to tell them eventually.” Natasha remarked to him one day.

“I will.” _Not until I have to._

2 months living with the Avengers in the Stark Tower (which was almost done with repairs) and cleaning up the “space whales and their fish” as Stark called them and Clint was sitting in a spaced area of the air vents. His hands were pressed against the metal and his eyes were closed. He could feel Thor talking and Steve punching the shit out of a sand punching bag in the lower gym. He could easily determine the difference, too. Thor’s voice, deep and booming even to Clint, rumbled short and quick vibrations. If he tried hard enough, he could pick out a few words. Steve’s punches rattled the bag tethered to the ceiling, fairly close to the vents. There was no sign of Bruce or Tony, but he could bet that they were in the big lab doing science-y things. Clint was smart, sure, but he was no genius. He didn’t understand half of what Tony or Bruce was trying to say to him. Natasha was probably…wait, he could feel the bullets. Shooting range, then.

He’d been in the air ducts for most of the day now, in his “nest”. He liked it up here because there wasn’t anything distracting. The only thing he didn’t like was the air that disrupted the feeds of his hearing aids. The air blowing into them was a bitch. It sounded like static. He froze suddenly as there was a pounding on the metal sides. His hands gripped the metal tightly until his hands were white.

Someone was saying something, and because of the blocking of the metal he couldn’t understand all of it. But he did know Tony’s voice. “What do you want, Stark?”

“Up for some shawarma, Legolas?”


	2. Chapter 2

3 months after the assembling of the Avengers, there was another mission. Not an “end of the world” one this time. There were a dozen or so giant robots in Minneapolis city, tearing up buildings and scaring the living shit out of the citizens. 

The helicopter landed right in the middle of the destruction, and he, Steve, and Natasha all ran out. Bruce lingered for just a moment before running out. He nodded to the captain, who nodded back, and took a deep breath. Then he wasn’t Bruce Banner anymore. 

Clint ran, quiver and bow ready, swiftly around cars and debris. He ran into a now evacuated office building and used the elevator to get to the near top. He perched himself on the ledge of the building through an open window. Repositioning his bow, he craned his neck as he examined the drone. 

It was bulky, made especially to look menacing and impenetrable. But there’s always a catch. His eyes scanned the back, and finally, he saw a faint glow in the hollow of the back of the neck. That’d knock out the transmitter. It would be out of control from whatever was commanding it, and the circuits would fry and, as Clint assumed, would go into “shock”, giving Tony the chance to shoot it down from Iron Man suit. 

He arched his bow, focused on the glow, and released his fingers. The explosive arrow zoomed straight into the transmitter and the robot trembled and shook for a second, its massive legs faltering for a second. In the pause, Tony used his repulsors to take it down. 

One down, 8 to go. 

“ _Barton! Hate to ruffle your nest, but we need you down here. The energy beams are jamming the signal, and we need to stay in contact._ ” Steve ordered from the comm. Clint’s eyes narrowed. He hated being on the ground in situations like these. It was too exposing. But, as Fury had so kindly explained to him, he had to follow the captain’s orders. Muttering a curse under his breath, he made his way back down again. 

When he reached the street, the captain and Natasha were both fending off mini-robots that were scurrying around the cars and lampposts, and Hawkeye shot at 3 of them without a moment’s hesitation. Then another 5. 3 more giant robots, courtesy of Iron Man and the Hulk, went down. 

Then one of the robots led out a mechanical roar, and Clint’s comms that were connected to his hearing aids went static. There were shouts on the other end, but he couldn’t make out any sense. Then an electric blast was swarming around him, not harming him, but his panic flared when his aids sparked, sputtered, and went dead. Swearing loudly, or so he _assumed_ because it was quiet now and there was an annoying whooshing noise. He yanked them from his ears and examined them. They were fried. “Shit!” 

He was still fumbling with them, and his comm had shorted out long ago, so he couldn’t tell Natasha that he- _SLAM!_

A tremendous force plummeted him to the pavement and his head connected painfully with the pavement. He might have blacked out. He wasn’t exactly sure. In his dazed state, though, instinct kicked in and he froze; arms tight against his throbbing side and legs prepared to kick out if anyone tried to intercept him. 

“Clint!” He knew it was his name, and that it was Natasha. After a couple of years you learned voices by heart even if you couldn’t hear it very well. He lifted his head and her face filled his vision. She seemed to realize that something was wrong with Clint’s hearing, because she used sign language to ask if he was all right. 

“Aids are dead,” he murmured.

She frowned, then gently slid a hand under his back and helped him stand. His side hurt like a bitch. At least a few cracked ribs, then. He’d broken enough to know what it felt like. He glanced around, shifted, and winced as he looked down. His arm had a damn good road rash on it. The Captain was finishing off the last few mini robots. Visibly, there was only one big robot left and the Hulk was finishing it off. 

Tony landed in his suit near the two, and pulled up his face plate. He wasn’t happy. Clint’s ears were barely catching any sound at all, less than usual what with his head fucking swimming, but he could hear the roar of the Hulk. Tony’s lips were moving now.

“Rogers was…to move…why didn’t…move?” That’s all Clint could make out. He felt too light headed to concentrate. But his mind pieced together what happened. A totaled car lay in ruins a few feet away. He recalled Hulk tossing the cars to…oh. One of the cars had hit him. He could have easily moved and it wouldn’t have been a problem if he’d been paying attention or been able to hear the yelling of his teammates. 

He looked desperately at Natasha, and she gave a small shake of her head. And he knew that he wasn’t getting out of this one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few people have asked if I could write the scene where Clint explains his hearing loss to the Avengers. I may or may not do it. If you'd like that, please let me know. Thanks :3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the feedback! It was amazing. Special thanks to my lovely "wife" Freya for giving me ideas for this chapter, because for the life of me I couldn't figure out good ways to have Clint explain everything to his team. Which is ironic, because I've had my own hearing loss for years and have had to tell a LOT of people. Also thanks to her for reminding me what things sound like. "What does a plane sound like anyway?" "A clucking chicken, of course. What else?" I am 99.9% sure it sounds like a whir and a little like thunder (from what my hearing aids and vibrations pick up, anyway)

The trip back to the Tower was silent and awkward. With no replacements of hearing aids with him, Clint looked down at his hands and hoped no one tried to talk to him. Natasha was helping with that, he noticed, by glaring daggers at any of the team who dared to even _look_ like they were going to open their mouth.

Stark had muttered something about having to go back to the Tower with his suit for immediate repairs, so the five of them were in the quinjet. Clint prayed it wasn't just his bad hearing not picking anything up and no one was actually talking. A few quick glances up confirmed that no, everyone was off in their own little world. Or wondering about him, and how strange he'd been acting.

He had to tell them.

He knew that, and Tasha will probably make him if he decided to chicken out anyway. The hard part was trying to think of how he was going to explain it to them without seeming like an invalid. He'd had to tell people about his hearing loss before, sure, but it felt different. This time, he was supposed to be strong in their eyes, because they were getting dangerously close to being his friends. And having friends that care about him great and all, but what happens when those friends put him on the sidelines out of their worry for him? _Oh, your hearing aids are busted? That's okay. Go sit in the car, buddy, we'll meet you there after it's all over._

Rationally, that wasn't likely. Natasha had never doubted his ability to complete a mission even if his hearing was compromised, and surely she'd back him up, right? And Fury wouldn't have put him on the Avengers if he didn't think he could handle it. If he got them to get it, to understand that it's not as bad as it seems, then they wouldn't question it either. Right?

*******

When the jet landed, Clint nearly sprinted from his seat, out of the jet and to his room on the 107th floor. He didn't look back.

His room was cluttered, as usual, with clothes thrown about and cups and even an empty pizza box on top of the large dresser. The queen bed was half-heartedly made, and there was a target on his wall that was sideways and covered in holes from spitballs. It was beginning to feel like home now, compared to the alien feeling when he first walked into the room. The room had been generously designed by Tony himself, and Clint had to admit the guy did a pretty decent job in putting in everyone's preferences without even asking them outright what they wanted.

His favorite part, though, was the closet. A walk in closet that had the usual assortment of clothing had a staircase leading up to a loft up above. It had a couch that he ended up sleeping on most of the time, a widescreen TV that probably cost more than his bow, and large windows that gave him a brilliant view of New York City.

Climbing up the stairs, he pushed a button near the couch and a see-through passcode screen appeared. He punched in his code and part of the wall disappeared to reveal a glass case. He assembled his bow, quiver, and arrows into the slots and took out a worn gray box that Clint has been telling himself he'll replace before it falls apart completely. In it was two extra pairs of hearing aids, because you can never be too careful. He put the fried ones from his pocket into the box and wondered, after he told everyone, if he should ask Tony to try to fix them. From the upgrades Tony has done on his bow and arrows, the genius could do wonders with them. He took out the new pair and inserted them into his ears, the skin colored mold feeling cold but strangely familiar, and switched it on. He breathed a sigh of relief as they beeped and sounds of the air ventilation system and the thudding of feet distantly greeted him.

Clint closed the box, and wall case, and it turned back into a smooth white wall. He plopped down on the couch and loved the feeling of the soft cushions. He was tempted to just stay in his room for the rest of the day, maybe the week, and ask JARVIS to lock everyone out.

Then again, Natasha would probably break in and drag him out by the ear. She was probably getting fed up with his continuous disregard for telling his team about his disability. He was jerked out of his thoughts when the lights flashed. JARVIS only did that to get his attention, usually if someone was at the door. "JARVIS, can you turn on the intercom?"

_"Of course, Agent Barton."_

"Clint, can I come in?" Natasha asked through the intercom. Speak of the devil.

"Clint's busy." He muttered, but climbed down from his loft and opened the door. "Yeah?"

"The team is in the common room waiting for you." She crossed her arms and looked at him sternly.

"Now?" he groaned. "Tasha…"

"Don't give me that. Get your feathery ass down there."

He sighed heavily and followed her to the elevator. There wasn't any point in arguing.

In the elevator, Natasha was leaning against the wall and staring at him, lips pursed. "Do you know what you're going to say?"

"No." Clint snorted. "I honestly have no idea what to say."

"Tell them what you told me. You remember that, don't you? You had just gotten it."

"…Tasha, I was drugged up on painkillers. I think I told you I wished I was a bird."

"Well, a version of what you said then. Come on, Clint, you know better than I do your strengths and weaknesses," Natasha insisted. At Clint's raised eyebrow she added, "Okay, slightly more."

Clint mumbled a curse and looked away, his hands unconsciously clenched tightly at his sides. His stomach churned in uneasiness. He hated being the center of attention. He hated looks of pity. God, he hated pity. But before the elevator door slid open, Natasha grabbed his fist, uncurled it, and squeezed it. When he looked at her, she wasn't looking at him, but her lips curved into a small, reassuring smile.

And then the moment was over, and she was pushing him out the door.

*********

Everyone was out of their uniforms. Bruce was sitting in the recliner chair with a book in his lap, but it was closed and booked marked. Tony and Steve were next to each other on the couch, and Thor was sitting on the ground. Tony probably wanted him to stay off the couch until he could replace it with sturdier stuff, because Thor just accidentally breaks things and no one gets mad, if you don't include Tony's over dramatic despair.

They all looked up at him expectantly.

His mouth felt dry suddenly. Was he really this socially awkward? He cleared his throat. "Uh, well. You're probably wondering what happened in Minneapolis."

Only Tony nodded, eyebrows rising in a prompting to go on.

"I'm kind of deaf," he rushed out, and winced. "I have moderate-severe hearing loss in both of my ears. I was too close to an explosion 6 years ago, and they said I wouldn't get it back."

"Is that all?" Tony grinned, but it wasn't a sneer. Just friendly. "Here I thought you were going to tell us you were dying of cancer."

"You didn't have to be ashamed of telling us, Clint," Steve said softly, standing up his seat. Clint shifted uncomfortably, shrugging.

"So, anyway. The energy blast fried my hearing aids. That's why I couldn't hear Steve yelling that the Hulk was behind me, and-"

"You got in the way of his throwing cars," Bruce finished. "Sorry about that."

"It's okay. Really, it is. I'm not mad at you or the big guy."

"I believe that all great warriors have their everlasting scars of battle, friend Barton. It is something you should be proud of. Others will look at you with honor." Thor told him, smiling so broadly Clint had to smile back.

"Yeah, listen to Thor. I mean, I've got this," Tony tapped the glowing blue circle in the middle of his chest, "and it sucks, but it's got benefits. Just like your disability has."

Clint was about to explain what exactly that meant, but Bruce beat him to it. "Your senses are enhanced, aren't they? Which takes your skill as an archer to a whole new level."

"Not to mention the ability to tune Tony out when he's talking too much." Steve added.

Tony glowered at the supersolider before smirking. "Steve doesn't have the privilege."

"What is a hearing aid, exactly?" Thor asked, frowning. "I understand that it is a device of Midgard that provides support to one's lack of hearing, but how does it work?"

Clint saw that Tony was about to jump into a technical discussion that only he and Bruce could understand, so he hushed the billionaire. "It acts like an amplifier. It captures sounds and makes them louder for me."

"Well, sounds like you've got a hold on it." Steve nodded to him, and Clint felt a weight lift on his shoulders. "But next time, tell us right away if something goes wrong with those aids. I've already had this discussion with Stark and his arc reactor."

"Except, you know, I die if the arc reactor goes off." Tony cut in. "Barton, you have to let me try to build you a hearing aid. It'll be great."

"Knock yourself out," Clint smirked. "But you have to test it yourself first. I don't want it blowing up in my ear. Wouldn't want to become deaf or anything."

"Har har, you're hilarious." Tony mocked, and thumped him on the shoulder. "I'm liking you more and more."

After that, it was like the interest had drifted. Tony got a hold of a tablet and began murmuring things to himself, and Steve watched in morbid fascination for just a few moments before turning instead to his drawing notebook. Bruce opened his book and began to read, and Thor turned on the TV and switched endlessly through different channels. Clint blinked; that was it? No accusations, no retribution? Slowly, he turned, and began to walk out of the room.

Natasha, who had been silent the whole time, followed him out and into the hallway. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

"Awful. Just awful," he sighed dramatically, putting a hand to his forehead. "The amount of will I had put into that was excruciating."

Natasha chuckled. "You seem happier already."

"Yeah. Ever since I came here I felt nervous that they'd find out the wrong way. I guess I was worried that they'd…you know."

"I know." And she leaned forward, kissed his cheek, and murmured into his ear. "I'm only human, too, Clint. Remember that."

He will.

******

Later that day, when the sun was beginning to disappear behind the skyscrapers and the sky was a mixture of pink and blue and orange, Clint went up on the roof sat on the ledge. He could only feel the wind gently brushing back his hair and the cool child of night creeping on his skin. His aids were out, and everything was silent.

He really didn't mind it all that much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this will be continued in a series. This is part 1. Part 2 will feature Clint's disadvantages with hearing loss and the insecurity that comes with it. And I got the light idea from my own family. They flash lights to get my attention when I'm not wearing hearing aids. What, you think that it's a joy to wear those things? Nah, it's a pain in the ass, but you get used to it.


End file.
